larships, Ivy League, that was my mantra, my only way out of this blue-col
ought, sat across from me at the library t
ok so easy, Sar
dad, Arthur, was stressed, and her mom, Carol, who did the books, looked perpetually wor
Bree," I said, tryi
have an idea, a study retreat, just us. My family has this o
d up there, tough as nails. Grandma Agnes, she ran their little corner of the county with an iron will and a network of folks who respected, and maybe feared,
ountains than I'd ever been. The "cabin" wa
tle of water after we hauled our b
ng I remembered was Bree' s s
tank of mildew and something else, something sour. Thi
h stringy hair peered dow
His son, Cletus, a grimy young man wi
?" I croaked,
n, cackled. "Your fri
n? Where am I?"
er. "You're with us
doorway then, her f
on?" I tried to sit
e flat. "All your perfect scores, your scholarships. My
cold. "What
a few hundred bucks and that beat-up sn
Cletus. "She
lent, desperate NO. This couldn't be happening. My future, my Iv
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